Willing the WordsDiving my hands into a rusty bucket,filled with words of wisdom,my fingers come up stained-yet empty.Each set of syllables seems to be just out of my grasp,as if what I want to say-is beyond mere words. Truly,how do I describe a sunsetto you, if you do not see the samearray of colors that I do? And how to share with you,the bliss available in each moment-by simply being?

Perhaps this exercise is in the end,just like all the others, another lessonfor me- to listen beyond the wordsnot being willed- to the breath beneath,which defies all attempts, to describe.